Four Seasons
by LuxKen27
Summary: Sess/Kag; AU. Friends 8 years ago, a shameful secret from their past forever entwined them. When a mutual beloved's death brings them together again unexpectedly, old emotions are brought back to the fore - whether they are ready to deal with them or not.
1. Autumn: Selfish, Cold, & Composed

Title: Autumn - Selfish, Cold, & Composed

Author: LuxKen27

Universe: Alternate Universe

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Rating: Y

Warnings: Light cursing

Word Length: 1,571

Summary: This was the moment he had been trying to prepare for since his brother's death.

Author's Note: It is highly recommended that you listen to the songs on which these chapters are based. Links are available at the author's notes entry for this piece on my LJ.

_Disclaimer: The _Inuyasha_ concept, storyline, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media_

"_Selfless, Cold, & Composed" © 1997 Ben Folds (Ben Folds Five)_

.xxxxx.

Sesshoumaru stood in the middle of the room, surveying it with a careful eye. It was hard to believe such a small space could somehow contain the contents of a person's entire life. Boxes were piled against the walls, some open, some not. A curio cabinet stood proudly across from the door, displaying awards and achievements, from school, from social activities.

He was surprised the thing was still standing, considering his father's reaction to it all.

But then, maybe his father was as used to death as he was by now.

For a moment, he regressed; if he closed his eyes, he was a little boy again, looking up wide-eyed from the door of his parents' room, where his father was curled beside his mother in their gigantic bed, stroking her hair softly, silent tears sliding down his cheeks.

His first brush with death…yet unfortunately, not his last.

He had been surprised, then angry, when his father remarried so soon after his mother's death. Maybe it was only fitting that Inuyasha had been such a sickly kid, some sort of twisted punishment from the gods. When he was younger, he'd harbored such resentment toward his half-brother. It was only to be expected, really; he had been just a kid himself. It seemed he went from one traumatic experience to another in some never-ending loop: first his mother left him; then his father betrayed him; and then his father had another kid who demanded all his attention.

Was it any wonder he'd turned into the person he was today? "Selfish, cold, and composed" – that's what everyone called him.

_What a joke_, he mused as he looked around the room. _One life wasted, one life ruined. Dad must be so proud…_

"Sesshoumaru?"

He closed his eyes again briefly, pursing his lips as he composed his thoughts. This was the moment he had been trying to prepare for since his brother's death. He cleared his throat and pivoted, letting his gaze fall to the woman who stood not three feet away, her hand clasped around the doorknob.

"Kagome."

It had been eight years since he'd seen her, and time had been most kind to her. She'd been a very pretty girl in high school, and she'd only blossomed in the ensuing years. A bit more world-weary, maybe; jaded from 20 straight years of schooling, definitely —but then, didn't everyone carry those signs of weariness after graduating from university?

She stood with her back straight, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, her clothes adequately sedate, given the occasion. She looked at him directly, without fear, something he'd always appreciated about her.

"It's been a long time," she began, stepping forward.

He turned on his heel, giving her his back. "Why don't we skip this?" he suggested, moving toward the curio cabinet.

Anything to put a little more space between them.

He heard the soft click of her shoes as she followed him into the room. "Okay," she said abruptly.

He turned his head slightly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She stood awkwardly, her eyes sliding across the mountains of boxes, memories reflecting on her face as she took it all in. "I'm sorry," she murmured in a heartfelt tone.

He snapped back to attention, focusing his gaze beyond on the window beyond the cabinet. The last leaves of autumn were losing their battle; they stubbornly clung to the tree branches, but it seemed their grip was weakening. Soon enough, they'd join their brethren on the ground…to be swept up and burned, or crunched under heavy boots.

Disposed of…quite like he'd been, once upon a time.

He hated autumn.

Kagome's voice broke him from his thoughts. "You've done me no favor to call and be nice," she mused out loud.

He turned to face her again. "It was the least I could do, considering your history."

She gave a little shrug, reaching for an open box. When she withdrew a bright red t-shirt, she smiled sadly. "Considering _our_ history."

His heart skipped a beat at the implication of her words. He thought eight years was plenty of time to bury the past, but with those three little words, she undid all of that hard work.

"He loved you," he said, folding his hands behind his back as he watched her. "He said, 'Let her have anything she wants. It's all hers, anyway.'" He paused as his brother's dying wish came back to him. After so many years of fighting illnesses, Inuyasha seemed almost content to finally face death. '_She made me who I am today.'_

She hugged the shirt close to her body as she stared down into the box. "He had a funny way of showing it," she muttered.

Sesshoumaru shrugged. "He was just a kid," he replied. "You know how hard his life was. I suppose that was his way of rebelling."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Did he have to rebel against me, too?" she asked. "He could've been there for me, instead of…" She allowed her thought to trail off, glancing up at him guiltily.

_Instead of me_, he finished silently, returning her gaze impassively. "He didn't know how to deal with it. He wasn't mature enough to handle the situation in any other way." He paused, debating how much to reveal. "He always regretted that, though – hurting you that way."

She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "I guess this is his way of making up for that?"

Sesshoumaru dropped one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I suppose. He never got over you." _Neither did I._

She nodded slowly, letting her attention wander back down to the boxes. She poked through a few of them, some of the objects bringing traces of smiles to her face…but for the most part, it seemed to upset her more than anything else.

After awhile, he had to look away again. Being in her presence was harder than he'd expected. All the old emotions began to tumble through him – worry, fear, jealousy, possessiveness, guilt – and it was beginning to turn his stomach.

Why did his stupid fucking brother have to be such a hapless romantic? Why was it that _he_ was in charge of this whole business of giving away his brother's possessions, instead of his father? Why, why, _why_ had the fates conspired to put him back in this ever-uncomfortable situation?

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," he said tonelessly. He looked out the window again, noting that another leaf had lost the struggle and fallen to the ground.

He could feel her eyes boring into his back. "Is that true?" she questioned. "Or are you saying that because you think that's what I want to hear?"

He looked back sharply, narrowing a cold glare that had once been his signature. "I don't lie," he stated, his voice strident.

He realized a beat too late that his reaction was too harsh, too defensive to bring an end to her line of questioning. She advanced toward him, one hand reaching out. "Sesshoumaru, you don't owe me to be so polite," she said softly. "You don't owe me anything."

"Hmph," he grunted, folding his arms across his chest.

Anything to keep her from touching him.

Her expression never changed; it seemed she was going to charge forward with sympathy, whether he liked it or not. "You've done no wrong, Sess," she continued, dropping his childhood nickname for the first time since…

A growl rose in his throat; his arms tightened their brace. "Don't patronize me," he retorted.

He could tell the moment she realized what she'd done. The memory had been invoked unconsciously; nonetheless, it lingered between them.

She twisted the shirt in her hands as she regarded him. "You know, we never really talked about that day," she began. "I never got to thank you for what you did for me."

Her words, meant to soothe, only stoked his anger. _I was always your afterthought_, he griped silently. "Don't worry about it," he said in a clipped tone. "I'm quite used to being thought of as disposable."

She closed her eyes and heaved an annoyed sigh. "Sess, please – " she tried again.

"Get out," he ground out.

Her jaw dropped. "Sesshoumaru!"

He felt his blood pressure rising. He didn't want to face this, not here, not now. He'd long ago buried this little piece of resentment – for her sake, for his sake, for Inuyasha's sake. It was better to let sleeping dogs lie at this point.

"Do you have what you want of his?" he asked her, his tone indicating he didn't care whether she was finished or not.

She stared back at him, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly agape. He watched as she swallowed convulsively, finally appearing to get the hint that he wanted to drop the subject. "Yes," she answered.

"Then leave," he directed.

For a moment, he thought she would defy him; he saw the determination bloom across her features, but it was quickly chased away by resignation.

She gave a small nod. "It was nice to see you again," she said.

He couldn't respond, so he merely stared.

She searched his face for a moment, her shoulders drooping as she realized he wasn't going to reply in kind. "I'll see you," she murmured, turning away.

He was rooted in place, his entire being absolutely rigid, as he watched her quietly leave the room.


	2. Winter: Bricks are Memories

Title: Winter - Bricks are Memories

Author: LuxKen27

Universe: Alternate Universe

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Rating: Y

Warnings: Please to be knowing what the song is referring to. It's a sensitive issue, so if it squicks you -- well, here's your warning.

Word Length: 2,364

Summary: Perhaps if he just let his eyelids drift shut...maybe he could trick his mind away from the memory…

Author's Note: It is highly recommended that you listen to the songs on which these chapters are based. Links are available at the author's notes entry for this piece on my LJ. This song (and subsequently, this chapter) cover a controversial, hot button issue, but with enormous care. It is not meant to offend – so here is your warning.

_Disclaimer: The _Inuyasha_ concept, storyline, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media_

"_Brick" © 1997 Ben Folds, Darren Jessee (Ben Folds Five)_

.xxxxx.

Sesshoumaru couldn't fall asleep that night. He rolled over and glanced at the glowing clock on his bedside table. _2:30 am._ With a sigh, he fell back, looking up at the ceiling and despairing of catching even the slightest wisp of sleep.

In truth, he hadn't had a good night's sleep since before Inuyasha passed away. But, there was something about his meeting with Kagome that was absolutely relentless, keeping his thoughts and emotions wound too tightly to allow him to completely relax. He couldn't even close his eyes, lest the remembered images assault him.

So, it appeared he was destined to lay awake all night…much as he'd done for the previous few weeks.

He felt the weight of his body sinking into the mattress as he lay there in the dark. His eyes traced the edges of the ceiling tiles. The gentle motorized twirl of the overhead fan filled his ears. He willed himself to concentrate enough to count sequentially – last night he'd made it to 2,364 before giving up, but at least it'd burned a few hours.

Sighing, he brought his hands up to rest on his chest, smoothing the sheet that rested beneath his fingertips. He'd like nothing more than to turn his mind off and get some much-needed rest. He could feel his body shutting down, preparing itself for the dark hours.

Perhaps if he just let his eyelids drift shut...maybe he could trick his mind away from the memory…

.xxxxx.

He had lain like this before, completely awake, his nerves on end. Eight years ago, he had gone to bed on Christmas day, counting the short hours he'd have to stay there until stealthily sneaking out to complete his mission. It had been so cold that night…he'd taken two extra blankets to bed, but it seemed the chill had soaked through him completely.

He rose before dawn, feeling as if he'd waited a lifetime – and in the same moment, as if no time had passed at all. He dressed in the dark, fumbling for his jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, sweater, and the old blazer from his school uniform, the official seal long gone from it. He combed his fingers through his hair, tying it back and tucking it into his shirt and sweater, pulling a hat snug against his ears to hide the rest of it.

Where he was going, he didn't want to stand out.

He eased out of his room, doing his best not to rouse the sleeping household. Outside, there was a thin layer of snow on the ground, grey and fading with age. He assumed that winter was supposed to be beautiful, with fresh blankets of snow covering everything, softening the harsh edges, lending some sense of innocence and beauty to the scene. That's what it looked like on TV, at least.

Too bad TV wasn't reality…

He crunched down the driveway to the sidewalk, stopping momentarily to knock the snow and ice from his boots. Luckily, they didn't live too far from the train station; it would be a relatively short walk through the deserted streets.

He kept his eyes on the ground the entire way, allowing the cold to numb him inside as well as out. He passed through the train station unnoticed, purchasing a short-stop ticket and heading up to the platform to catch the first train of the day.

The car wasn't much warmer, but it was a welcome respite for his feet. He learned the intricate crease patterns of his shoes during that ride, finding himself faintly amused at the way the leather settled around his feet and ankles.

Three stops down the line, he exited the train, beginning the second leg of his journey. He stepped out into the harsh weather once again, the sun shining brightly as it rose over the horizon. He scowled, looking down, pushing his hands into his pockets.

She was waiting for him, as planned. She sat at the foot of the torii gate in front of her home, curled into a ball and looking much younger than sixteen. Her head was uncovered, which he found so odd.

"Ready?" he murmured as he looked at her.

Red-rimmed eyes met his. "Yeah," she sniffled, pushing herself up into a standing position, brushing snow from the seat of her pants.

He gave a short nod, turning to the sidewalk and heading back to the train station. She walked a step behind him, her arms curled around her stomach, her head down. They were silent for the short trip, neither having the words nor the desire to discuss it.

She shivered slightly as they stopped at the ticket machine just inside the station; he bought their tickets and led her to the platform, where they waited for their train, still silent, still standing a few feet apart.

He couldn't believe her parents were letting her do this, by herself no less.

The train arrived then; they hustled into the car, eager for a break from the relentless cold. She sat in a window seat but stared straight ahead; he sat beside her and held her hand the whole way. It seemed the natural thing to do, offer her some bit of comfort in such a trying time.

They rode further into the city, the sun casting strange shadows on the buildings as it stayed low in the sky. He hadn't been awake this early in the morning since he was a little kid, and it was a bit disorienting.

The train pulled into the main station with a screech, throwing them slightly forward as it halted. He glanced at her, watching as the mask of control fell over her features. He'd expected nothing less from her, and wondered if she was as numb on the inside as he was.

Their destination wasn't far from the station. They held hands as they walked, Sesshoumaru still slightly leading the way. As they approached the small, squat building, Kagome squeezed his fingers, bringing him up short.

He eyed the door of the clinic. "Do you want me to go in with you?" he asked quietly.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, letting her eyes fall to the ground.

Together, they crossed that threshold, the ties that bind forever entwining them.

She had to fill out some paperwork, which didn't take long…and then, it was just more waiting. He fixed his gaze at a point on the wall near the clock, not shifting his eyes as new clients walked in or out. He continued to hold her hand, beginning to feel like maybe he was her only link to sanity as she sat there.

It was another eternity before they called her name, and he had to let her go. She gave him a watery look, and he could feel her control slipping. She'd tried her best to be strong, but she was going to crack.

That pissed him off.

Inuyasha was such a fucking prick to do this to her.

Sesshoumaru's eyes drifted back to his point on the wall, his absolute anger at his brother finally boiling over. He'd been so ill the last few years…when he'd pulled through, and gotten stronger, they all wondered – was this it? Was he finally strong enough to live a normal life? Their father had encouraged him at every turn; his mother babied him as much as possible.

And he thrived. Soon enough, he enrolled in public school, a grade behind his age group thanks to his numerous bouts of illness. He'd become quite the popular first-year, the exact opposite of his older brother, a staid, cold character who would probably blow the rest of his senior class out of the water as soon as they graduated. Inuyasha was charismatic and outgoing, attracting people like bees to honey.

Kagome was the first girl Inuyasha really became serious about. She was a junior – one year between the brothers – a student of good academic standing who wasn't the most social of creatures. She was pretty, but she absolutely transformed under Inuyasha's doting gaze, blooming into someone special enough to catch even selfish, cold, arrogant Sesshoumaru's attention.

He could see what she saw in Inuyasha, but he found her interesting in her own right. When she'd come over to visit his brother, they'd have small chats about this and that. Slowly, unconsciously, she had ingratiated herself into all of their lives, not just Inuyasha's.

He just couldn't leave well enough alone.

Inuyasha's ego was just too big to be contained; one girl wasn't enough for him. He was sneaking around behind Kagome's back. Sesshoumaru tried to warn her – but he wasn't the most tactful person sometimes. It would've gone the route of all high school romances, but for one small detail.

She got pregnant.

Inuyasha freaked the fuck out when she told him; he didn't know _how_ to react, so he pushed her away. As if that wasn't bad enough, her _own family_ turned against her, warning her that she was ruining her life and her chances, telling her what an awful mistake she'd made, but giving little guidance or support in dealing with it.

And so, somehow, it fell to him. Theirs was an honest and straightforward friendship; she'd never passed judgment on him or his actions, and he'd given her the same courtesy. He could empathize with her feelings of isolation from her family, and thus agreed to go with her when she "corrected" her "mistake."

He didn't know how long he sat there, waiting for her to return. He couldn't look at the clock – watch the minutes tick away – without wondering what they were doing to her. His hands curled into fists, and he vowed…if ever he was responsible for a situation such as this, he'd act better than his stupid brother.

Finally, she shuffled back out to the waiting room, looking small and vulnerable and very, very tired. She stood before him, her eyes still downcast, her face red and puffy from crying.

He didn't know what to say, but he felt like he had to say _something_, to break this awful, awkward silence that brewed between them. He stood up and opened his mouth, but didn't get the chance to say anything before she fell against him, burying her face in the contours of his blazer, silent sobs wracking her body.

His heart broke for her – even more, if that was possible, than it had before – and all the same, a surge of protectiveness washed over him. He drew his arms around her, pulling her closer, holding her tightly, wishing he could truly take away her sorrow.

He moved toward the door, quietly guiding her back out into the cold, harsh world – but away from the prying eyes of those in the waiting room. He stood on the stoop with his back to the wind, shielding her as she continued to cry, offering her what consolation he could. As the sobs subsided, she pulled away from him slightly, brushing her fingers across her cheeks in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

"Do you want to eat something?" he asked her. "Go somewhere?"

She balled her hands into fists, catching the lapels of his blazer between her fingers. "Just take me home," she whispered, staring straight ahead with dead eyes.

"Okay," he agreed, pulling off his hat and pushing it low across her head before letting one of his arms settle across her shoulders. She leaned against him as they walked back to the train station, her hands still fisted at his chest.

On the ride back, she separated herself from him, orienting her body completely towards the window. He still sat next to her, his hands in his lap, casting a watchful eye over her. It was in that moment that he realized just how alone she was in the world…and that even though he sat beside her, had just gone through this _with_ her, he felt just as alone.

They were alone, together.

The irony was bitter to the taste.

He accompanied her home, staying one step behind her as if to encourage her to keep moving forward. When they arrived at the gates of the shrine where she lived, she took a few deep breaths and wiped her cheeks yet again, looking for all the world as if she was gathering the courage to walk into her own home. His lips curled up wryly as he watched her reset the mask, relating a bit too well.

He thought to merely retrieve his hat before she forgot she was standing there with someone else. As he reached out to pluck it from her head, she threw her arms around him once again, hugging him tightly, her arms squeezing with surprising force around his waist. His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitched in surprise, but he managed to gather himself in record time, returning the embrace.

She pulled away, somewhat reluctantly, looking back to her house as she removed his hat and handed it to him.

He resisted the urge to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Take care of yourself," he murmured.

She nodded. "You, too," she replied, giving him a weak smile.

"You'll be fine," he told her as she braced her shoulders.

"I hope you're right," she sighed, moving away from him. She walked with a steady stride, entering her home without hesitation.

There was nothing more for him to do, except head home as well…

He made the journey in silence, battling within himself, somehow wishing to be numb, immune to the emotional trauma. When he finally slinked into his house that night, the sun again hanging low in the sky, he found Inuyasha waiting for him.

"Is she okay?" he asked, his fear clear in his eyes.

Sesshoumaru resisted the urge to backhand him for such a stupid, insensitive question. "Yes," he replied shortly, attempting to sidestep his brother, who was blocking the door of his bedroom.

"Did she do it?" Inuyasha asked, his voice even lower.

"Get out of my way, mutt," Sesshoumaru growled, pushing his brother to the side and slamming the door in his face.


	3. Spring: Evaporated

Title: Spring - Evaporated

Author: LuxKen27

Universe: Alternate Universe

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Rating: Y (adult themes & language)

Warnings: Light cursing

Word Length: 3,788

Summary: He stared into the depths of her eyes, and he _knew_.

Author's Note: It is highly recommended that you listen to the songs on which these chapters are based. Links are available at the author's notes entry for this piece on my LJ.

_Disclaimer: The _Inuyasha_ concept, storyline, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media_

"_Evaporated" © 1997 Ben Folds (Ben Folds Five)_

.xxxxx.

Spring had been Inuyasha's favorite season. It had something to do with the rest of the world being reborn with unlimited potential – at least, that's what his mother always claimed. Sesshoumaru spared no kind feelings for her, believing her naïve and foolish, but perhaps she was only trying to comfort her chronically ill child with such happy psychobabble.

Sesshoumaru peered out of the window in his tiny office, stuffed though he was at the end of a long hall in the west wing of the building. The rest of the room was covered in files, boxes and boxes of back-filed medical charts which were waiting to be entered into the new hospital database. The work was mind-numbingly boring, something he could complete with his eyes closed, but it paid decently and allowed him to be by himself – a much preferred state of affairs.

If he'd known how much time he'd spend here outside of his working hours in the last year, he never would've taken this job. Inuyasha's last bout of illness landed him at this hospital, and it seemed his entire family camped out here for months on end. They finally released him, allowing him the privilege of dying at home, and Sesshoumaru could never quite face this place with the same remoteness as before.

His gaze slid over the small white blossoms of the trees, the sun reflecting back in his golden eyes as it shown down on the shiny young leaves. He stared out into the middle distance as memories consumed him.

It had been six months since Inuyasha's death. Because it had been a long, complicated illness, there weren't many loose ends left to tie up. He'd managed to cope in his own quiet way; only now was his life returning to some semblance of normal.

He had shoved this grief and trauma back with all the rest, blocking it from his mind completely, wanting nothing more than to move on with his life. He'd had more than his share of pain; all he really wanted was to lead a regular, boring, non-demanding life. He envied those with such mundane existences.

"I never took you for a daydreamer," came an amused voice.

Sesshoumaru glanced towards the door of his office, surprised – and yet somehow, not – to see the young woman who stood there. She looked much the same as she had the last time he'd seen her – but then, how much could six months truly change a person's appearance?

"What are you doing here?" he asked, folding his arms atop his desk as he regarded her.

She lifted the bag she held in one hand. "I'd heard rumors of some cold, rude man who worked down here, and I thought he might like a bit of company."

"Hmph," he sniffed as she settled in the chair across from him.

Kagome laughed as she spread the makings of a modest lunch out on the desk. "It seems you're the talk of the psych ward," she began, spreading soft cheese on a piece of brown bread. "Everyone's afraid of you."

Sesshoumaru watched her complete her neat ministrations. The skin on the backs of her hands was so smooth and pale…hands that showed no signs of facing a hard life. "Why are you in the psych ward?" he asked absently, his gaze sliding down the lengths of her fingers.

"I have an internship," she replied. "A grief counseling rotation." She pressed the halves of her sandwich together and took a bite, sitting back as if expecting an interrogation upon this little revelation.

"That's a brave choice," he murmured, "considering your history."

She nudged the condiments and bread toward him, but he made no move to make use of them. "We all have different ways of dealing with things," she said, taking another bite. "Speaking of, how are you holding up?"

He stared at her impassively, but inwardly he was rolling his eyes at her rather awkward bridge in conversation. Frankly, he was surprised she was sitting across from him so amicably, considering how things ended the last time they were in the same room together. Should he humor her?

"I'm fine," he replied.

She eyed him seriously. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you," she said plainly, lowering her sandwich into her lap. "I feel like I owe you."

His heart skipped a beat, a flash of memory assailing him. "Don't," he bit out.

She gave a soft smile. "You won't let me thank you outright," she reminded him. "You were such a good friend to me then. Please, allow me to return the favor."

_Good friend._ The spring after that awful trip to the clinic, she'd forgiven Inuyasha for his actions (or, more appropriately, the lack thereof) and resumed their relationship. Sesshoumaru remembered it well, because Inuyasha's health had been poor, and the rekindled romance seemed to give him something to live for.

"All the rumors you've heard are true," he said by way of reply. "I'm just as cold as I've always been. I have no use for other people."

"Are you going to tell me to leave again?" she asked, her gaze as direct as her question.

Words bubbled up within him. He wanted to tell her just exactly that – to leave, get out of his life and take her stupid memories with her. He was sick of reliving his past at the expense of sleep and sanity. With her reappearance, he just _knew_ he was in for another bout of insomnia. Unfinished business would once again roar up within him, undoing all of his hard work in keeping it locked away.

On the other hand, now that she was here…he didn't want her to leave. Along with all of that resentment and pain, the flicker of affection he'd always carried still lingered. She was one of the few who'd never looked at him with judgment, who had accepted him for the snotty, arrogant bastard he was – and for everything he could've been.

"No," he said gruffly.

His response seemed to please her immensely. "Good," she said, gathering her belongings once again. She stood up and walked to the door, the impromptu meeting apparently over. His eyes followed her, flickering with surprise as she turned back to him.

"I lost you once," she said softly, her hand on the knob. "I don't want that to happen again."

.xxxxx.

Kagome's words rattled around Sesshoumaru's brain as he walked home that evening. What did she mean by that? Did she miss him? How could that make sense? The absolute love and devotion she held for his brother had been obvious – in action, if not in words. After forgiving him, she spent most of her free time doting on him and nursing him back to health. If she'd lost touch with the rest of the world, well, that was on her shoulders, not his.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling around for his keys, his eyes trained to the ground as he walked along. The sun was beginning to set, bright orange and red reflected across the sky. He sighed as he pulled out the appropriate key, more than ready to push this niggling thought from his mind. Exhaustion hovered at the periphery of his body; maybe if he went straight to bed, he'd be able to get some sleep.

"Sesshoumaru!"

He stopped short, swallowing an irritated groan as he realized who had called his name. His hands unconsciously clenched into fists as he stared down at his stepmother, who was sitting on the stoop of his building in a mass of tears.

"Oh, Sesshoumaru, thank goodness!" she whimpered, launching herself at him. He held himself steady, arms at his sides, hoping her fervent embrace would be short.

"Your father is gone!"

He stiffened, then forcibly separated himself from her. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"He's just – gone!" she repeated, her eyes growing wide, tears pouring down her cheeks. "When I returned home from work, all of his things were packed, his car was gone. I just can't believe – !" She choked on her words, covering her face with her hands once again.

Sesshoumaru couldn't breathe. His heart was racing, thumping heavily against his ribcage. _He left me_, he thought helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment, he was three again, watching his father stroke his mother's hair and cry. The same fear clawed up in him, threatening to rage out of control. He inhaled sharply, clamping down on the feeling, pushing the childish memories from his mind.

"Do you have any idea where he could've gone?" Inuyasha's mother whispered between sobs. "I'm so afraid for him! He hasn't been the same since Inuyasha died, but I never expected him to react like _this_!" She stifled a crazed whine, borne of fear and worry, as she regarded her stepson. "Please, Sesshoumaru! _Please_, if you know where he is – !"

Sesshoumaru turned his back to her, determined to get away from her hysteria before it engulfed him as well. His feet propelled forward, away from his apartment. Faintly, he heard her screech at him, but he didn't look back.

His nerves were on end, his heart still racing, the fear and resentment he held at bay threatening to once again break free. If he couldn't find his escape through sleep, he'd have to use another means.

His mind was already cloudy as he pushed into the bar at the end of his street. He relinquished all sentient thought, allowing his body to take over. All he wanted to do was shut it out: everything.

Inuyasha's death.

Kagome's return.

His father's disappearance.

"_We all have our own way of dealing with things," _she'd told him. His father's way of dealing was to run, apparently. Why was it that nobody in his life stuck around for him? His mother was dead, his father was gone. Even people he didn't necessarily like – his brother, the people he'd gone to school with – they all drifted away, leaving him alone.

Was he really so disposable?

The Russian vodka was cheap here. He ordered glass after glass, the alcohol burning the back of his throat as he choked it down. He didn't know how long he sat there feeling sorry for himself, but when he finally shoved himself up, his head spun and his stomach threatened to return its contents. He never drank very much at a time, finding the taste rather unpalatable and the end state completely pointless, but he found it was a fantastic means for numbing nagging insecurity.

He managed to stumble home, explicitly reminding himself to lock the door, and went straight to bed, falling down face first without bothering to undress. His head was absolutely pounding now, his eyes two seconds away from literally burning out of their sockets, his mouth raw with the bitter taste of the unvarnished spirit.

_Should've eaten,_ he thought as his eyelids drooped forward. _ Gonna be a bitch in the morning._

Such was his last conscious thought, the sleep he so craved falling over him all at once.

.xxxxx.

Perhaps if his job placed any sorts of demands on his time, energy, or brain, he would've called out the next morning, when he woke up feeling like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his head. As it was, all he felt was this physical pain, so he fumbled through the motions of getting ready. He could spend a day in the dark west wing of the hospital, staring at a computer screen with bleary eyes. Maybe eight or ten hours of data entry would further numb his mind.

His day was going according to plan, until Kagome showed up for another lunch meeting. His stomach turned at the sight and smell of food, so he didn't even bother to face her as she ate. He stared at the computer screen, watching the cursor blink as it waited for his next line of code.

"You look like hell," Kagome remarked between bites. His back was to her at present, but she'd had time enough to take in the pinched draw of his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his cheeks when she arrived at his door.

"Hmph," he grunted, tapping his fingers on the keyboard, spilling a line of junk across the screen.

"Is everything okay?" Her napkin rustled as she wiped her fingers.

"Dad skipped town, apparently," he said tonelessly, flicking the backspace key to delete the nonsense. "Guess he finally snapped."

"Whoa," Kagome breathed. "I'm surprised to hear that."

_I'm not, _Sesshoumaru thought.

"Are you okay? I mean, wow. That's got to be tough."

Sesshoumaru's mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he swiveled around to face her. "I'm fine."

Kagome swallowed convulsively, a bit startled to suddenly feel the intensity of his gaze. "How about your mother?"

Sesshoumaru gave a short laugh. "My mother's dead," he declared, his hands curling into fists. "My mother's dead and my father's gone. Now, don't you feel sorry for me?"

"I'm sorry, Sess," she whispered, her hand stealing across the desk to cover his. She ignored his wince at her touch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He unleashed his signature glare. "No," he ground out, pulling away from her. He gave her his back once again.

"Don't keep it all bottled up inside," she told him. "It's not healthy."

"I'm not one of your weepy patients," he bit off. "Don't patronize me with your empty platitudes."

There was a pause before she answered. "I'm not speaking to you as a therapist, but as a friend. Please, Sess, don't do this to yourself."

He glared at her over his shoulder. "You're free to leave at any time," he informed her sarcastically. "If you don't want to watch me 'do this to myself', there's no reason for you to stay."

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. "You don't scare me," she said levelly.

He didn't have an answer for that; he merely looked forward again, staring at the computer screen with complete focus. Anger and frustration swirled within him. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? He was nobody's pet psychology project.

Kagome released a long sigh. "I have to get back," she said, rising from her seat. She repacked the makings of her lunch, impulsively reaching out to touch him when she finished. "Take care, Sess," she murmured, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You're not alone."

The warmth of her words poured over him as she left the room, but he resisted the comfort. Allowing comfort meant allowing her in, allowing her to poke around where she had no business, allowing old flames to burn as brightly as they once had.

No. Better to be cold and composed. He didn't need anybody…just like nobody needed him.

.xxxxx.

Kagome didn't return for the daily lunch routine after that strained conversation. It seemed her work was picking up; sometimes when Sesshoumaru took a break and looked out the window, he could see her with her therapy group, sitting outside under one of the dappled trees. She wasn't there every day, but often enough to make him wonder if she chose that particular spot, given the vicinity of his window.

He'd rather not think about it.

His stepmother hadn't returned to his apartment after that awful day, and he hadn't returned to that dark, dank bar. He lived his days in isolation, allowing time to slip past unmarked. His work was as mind-numbingly boring as it had always been, and it seemed that he'd finally achieved the heights of emotional repression as well. Aside from the occasional flicker at Kagome's nearness, he felt hollow inside.

This was what he'd always wanted, yes? Numb the pain, stop the trauma, live life in mediocrity, just like everyone else.

So why did he feel like complete shit? It was exhausting to be so alone in the world, to go out of his way to avoid people.

The days were growing long as spring wore on. He was almost finished with this database, and he was beginning to feel a bit antsy about his next project. Should he take some time off and get away, maybe find his father? Should he plow on with his life as it was? Should he work up the inclination to ask Kagome out?

He sighed, turning back to his computer. She wasn't outside today; he hadn't seen her in a couple of days, actually. He didn't know why, but something told him to reconnect with her. Nostalgia, perhaps? She hadn't asked to be left with the majority of his brother's personal effects, to step back into his life the way she had. She'd only wanted to be nice to him…to return the favor, she said. They'd had a nice friendship back then.

He thumbed through the stack of files yet to be coded, indirectly happy with the efficiency with which he'd gone through it. He was up to the T's, the last of the most common last names. Looking at the same names over and over made his eyes glaze over after awhile. _Good,_ he thought. _Let's get on with this._

He flipped open the file on the top, positioning his fingers on the keyboard before glancing back. As he read the name, however, he involuntarily sucked in a breath.

_Tashiro, Inuyasha._

His eyes blurred as he stared down. His head felt hot and heavy all of a sudden; he became aware that his hands were shaking as they hovered over the keys. A fresh wave of emotion coursed through him as memories flashed behind his eyes.

Admitting him to this hospital.

His father sleeping in his room.

His stepmother bringing homemade soup.

The doctors telling them it was hopeless this time.

The relief he felt when he realized this was the last time he'd have to go through this.

His brother's content smile as they met for a final chat.

"_Let her have anything she wants," _he said with a happy sigh. _"She made me who I am today."_

The gates were breaking; he couldn't hold it in anymore.

He sat at his desk, visibly shaking, the blood draining from his face. His eyes couldn't leave the first page of Inuyasha's incredibly long medical history, locked on the characters that made up his name.

"Sesshoumaru?"

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, taking a deep, controlled breath, willing his mind to shut off and his body to calm down. He curled his fingers against his palms, pushing away from his computer desk, putting one foot out to swivel around in his chair.

She was _right there_, before he could place her, her arms folded tightly across her chest, holding something, as she stared down at him with obvious concern. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, slipping over one shoulder, and he was reminded of the last time they'd been so close in proximity, how he didn't even have to think about it, how natural it had been to embrace her and hold her and comfort her when she was so small and vulnerable and sad.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a hushed voice, crouching before him, resting her elbows on her knees. "Are you okay?"

He watched her wordlessly, concentrating on keeping his breathing even and regular. He couldn't speak; his throat constricted as if rebelling against the _very idea_ of speaking.

She tried to stay calm as she addressed him. "Sess, are you okay? Do we need to go upstairs to the ER?" One knee fell against the floor as she reached up, placing her hand on his shoulder, brushing away the silvery strands of his hair.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply again, pushing a pool of saliva back to coat his now-dry throat. "I'm…fine," he choked out in a hoarse whisper.

She moved closer to him, the hand on his shoulder curving around the base of his neck, her eyes searching his face. "Are you sure?" she questioned.

He stared into the depths of her blue eyes, and he _knew_. Something primal broke through his self-imposed barriers, rising full within him. She was going to be the one to tear down his walls, the one to lay his soul bare. That teenage crush roared back to life, squeezing against his heart with fearsome force, scaring the shit out of him.

When had they switched roles? When had she become his confidant? When had he become so vulnerable?

The space of eight years? The space of six months? The space of fifteen minutes, when she happened upon him just now?

He took another deep breath, closing his eyes, composing himself. Was he ready to turn his life over to her? Was she ready for such a responsibility?

"I'm sure," he finally answered. "I don't need to leave this room."

Kagome fell back at his reassurance, relief visible on her face as she hugged the object she held with a redoubled grip. "Thank God," she whispered. "When you didn't respond right away, and I had to come all the way over here just to get your attention…I was afraid you were having a grand mal!" She gave a small, hysterical laugh at that.

He looked down at her, questions rising to his tongue. "Why?" he breathed, resisting the urge to touch her, bring her close once more. _Why are you here?_ he wanted to know, his vocal chords still struggling.

She gave him a helpless shrug, suddenly a bit sheepish as she looked up at him. "I was worried about you," she said. "I know you told me not to, but I couldn't help it!" She paused, her mouth working as she debated with herself. Finally, she thrust the object in her arms towards him. "I thought maybe…maybe you wouldn't be resistant to this idea."

He eyed the book skeptically, his heart racing, his emotions very much at the fore, rushing against him in waves, threatening to spill over. "What?"

She pressed the thin volume into his hands. "You've got to let it all out," she said quietly. "Maybe you don't want to talk about it, but all this stuff you've bottled up within yourself – and I can tell, it's years upon years of resentment, frustration, _whatever_ – you've _got _to let it out." Her eyes met his, another helpless shrug tugging at her shoulders. "You can write it down in this book, get it all out of your system, give your heart a chance to lighten its burden."

He stared down at the book, his eyes travelling the length of her outstretched arm. "I don't have a heart anymore," he said quietly, sadly. "I poured it out long ago, and it evaporated."


	4. Summer: Up in Smoke

Title: Summer - Up in Smoke

Author: LuxKen27

Universe: Alternate Universe

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Rating: Y (adult themes & language)

Warnings: Light cursing

Word Length: 2,550

Summary: Leaf by leaf and page by page, throw this book away.

Author's Note: It is highly recommended that you listen to the songs on which these chapters are based. Links are available at the author's notes entry for this piece on my LJ.

_Disclaimer: The _Inuyasha_ concept, storyline, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media_

"_Smoke" © 1997 Ben Folds, Anna Goldman (Ben Folds Five)_

.xxxxx.

Kagome gave a content sigh. "Don't you just love this view?"

Sesshoumaru glanced at her from the corner of his eye, wondering if he should truthfully answer such a loaded question. She was referring, of course, to the scene before them: the sun setting over the ocean, a soft summer breeze wafting past, carrying the scent of salt to their noses. It was indeed lovely, a relaxing way to spend a lazy evening.

"Hm," he replied, turning his attention back to the sunset. A myriad of reds, pinks, and yellows crisscrossed the sky, reflecting against the clouds. The air was still around them, the only sound the crash of waves against the shore further down the beach. They'd lucked out, coming across this secluded little patch of sand a few weeks before. They could enjoy the beach in relative peace, the noisy families and tourists further down the shoreline.

Three months had passed since that moment in his office, since she'd shoved that book in his face and told him to write out his sorrows. It did prove to be a turning point in their tenuous relationship, but not as he expected (and feared). She'd resumed her routine of sharing lunch with him in his office, steadily drawing his interest to the outside world once more. They discussed everything under the sun, it seemed, except for two important points: their past, and their present.

When he'd finished with the database, the hospital begged him to stay on for another project. He'd never admit it, but the fact that Kagome was still there certainly aided the ease of making _that_ decision.

They had lunch together almost every day, and occasionally went for walks in the afternoon, but their relationship – as such – never progressed beyond that. There was a lot left unsaid, but Sesshoumaru didn't feel up to meeting that challenge just yet. Trying to document the cycle of emotional trauma that was his life was exhausting enough, and sometimes he wondered what good reliving any of it would do for him.

He was glad she didn't press him for information, because he felt like enough of an idiot doing this little exercise in private.

And sometimes, there were moments like this, when they were alone, together, sitting in amiable silence, when it _was_ all worth it. Slowly but surely, it seemed like his heart was growing once again, reawakening after being buried under doubt and regret for so long. It was nice, he decided; having a tangible object to separate and contain all that misery was nice.

"I can't believe the summer is almost over," Kagome said, interjecting into his thoughts once again.

"Hm," he mused.

He inclined his head toward her. She was leaning back against the wooden gate beside him, her legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed demurely. She was wearing a simple skirt and top, her hair drifting free around her shoulders. She was the picture of contentment, and he wondered…how long had it taken her to work through the dark corners of her past?

She turned her head, catching his surprised gaze, giving him a small smile. "We should build a fire," she suggested. She sat up, glancing around for driftwood. Her eyes lit up as she spotted some in the distance, and she was off before he had a chance to say anything. A small smile played on his lips as he watched the sway of her hips when she moved away, focused on her new mission.

He pulled his book from the inside pocket of his jacket and turned it over in his hands. She'd asked him to bring it along tonight, and he wondered if she was finally going to want to read it. He wasn't so sure he was ready to share any of these thoughts and memories with another person, but given the choice, he was glad it would be her. It seemed their friendship had picked up right where it left off back in high school, and he was grateful for that.

He'd missed her more than he'd realized.

She brought the pile of wood back to him, digging a pit in the sand and busying herself with building the fire. She seemed inordinately proud of her creation, giving a whoop of joy when she managed to light it – and _only_ it – successfully. He watched her the entire time with an impassive gaze, letting her innate happiness settle over him.

She burrowed beside him once again, kicking off her shoes and propping her feet near the fire. "Much better," she commented.

He smiled, letting his eyes drift towards the heavens. This was the calmest he'd felt in a long time, and he only wanted to continue enjoying it. The stars were beginning to come out, twinkling at him from overhead.

He felt her hand on his. "I see you brought the book," she said quietly.

His attention focused on his lap, where their hands were resting casually. He released his hold on the book and cupped his palm around hers. "Do you want to read it?" he murmured.

She opened her hand slightly, reaching out to lace her fingers through his. "No."

He continued to gaze at their hands, now interlocked, and wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. Warmth spread from her touch, rising up his arm, pooling over his chest and torso. His heart was beating steadily in his chest, his breath rising and falling in an even pattern, but he was hyper-aware: of her, of himself, of exactly what they were doing.

"Then why did you ask me to bring it?" he inquired.

"To finish the therapy."

His brow creased at this unexpected answer; he looked at her with suspicion. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly, carefully.

Her gaze, which had been steady on the fire since the beginning of this conversation, met his. "I mean, now we're going to burn the book."

"_What_?!" The shocked word was ripped from his throat before he realized it. He yanked his hand out of her grip and once again picked up his book.

She rummaged around in her belongings and withdrew a similar, slim volume, showing it to him with exaggerated interest. "We're going to burn these books, as a symbol of finally separating ourselves from our sorrow," she explained.

He could only stare at her dumbly, his eyes moving from her face – so calm, so determined – to her hands, where she held her own book. "You have one, too?" he finally choked, wanting to hit himself for voicing such a stupid, obvious question.

"We all have a book of regrets, no?" she asked, letting the question float off. She opened the covers of her volume, letting the pages flutter in the breeze. "It's hard to believe a lifetime of sorrow can be contained in such a small book."

He eyed her with skepticism as she gave him a sheepish smile. "I couldn't very well ask you to do this alone," she said. "You aren't the only one running away from pain. If I was going to hold you up to some impossible standard, it's only fair to hold myself to it as well."

With a resolute breath, she reached forward, ripping out a random page and balling it in her fist. "This is what you do," she told him, her voice quiet and serious. "You tear the pages out and throw them in the fire. You let go of the pain, the hurt, the resentment." She threw the paper into the fire, the flames shooting up greedily over the addition. "It's all smoke…it's all gone."

He sat forward, opening his book with care, thumbing through its pages. "So the first step was to get it out of the system…" he mused, letting his eyes run over the careful script that marked his memories.

"…and the last step is to let it go completely," she surmised, touching his arm once again. "Think of it as the ultimate catharsis."

"Hmph," he grunted. He wasn't entirely sure he liked this idea. It had been absolute hell, going through all this, writing it down in painstaking detail, and now she was telling him he couldn't even keep the record of it?

She continued to tear pages out of her book, throwing them into the fire. "Leaf by leaf, and page by page, throw this book away," she sighed, her voice breaking as she chanted. "All the sadness…all the rage…throw this book away."

Emotions tumbled through him as he watched her. He could tell she was struggling to control herself, but apparently she was reliving her past traumas now, letting them go one last time. It was awe-inspiring…and scary as hell…and all the same, comforting. She was allowing herself to be vulnerable in his presence, and that meant she trusted him a great deal.

She looked at him then, tears glistening on her cheeks. "Come on, Sess," she said, brushing her fingers under one eye. "Let it go."

His gaze slid from her face to the fire, his grip on his book tightening. "I don't think I can," he said, his voice strained.

She nodded. "I know how you feel," she said. "When you've been holding on to it for so long, you start wondering: what, if anything, can fill that void in your life?" Her arms curled around her torso, and for a moment, she was sixteen again, lonely and scared and lost.

She looked up again, taking a cover in each hand and wrenching her book apart, the two halves fluttering in protest. She chucked one of them into the fire, a sob escaping as she did so. "It's hard to let go, but we must," she insisted, facing him with an imploring gaze.

He gave her a short nod, shaking fingers grasping one of the pages of his book, pulling it from the binding with care. It was a lesser incident, something he felt safe with letting go. He crunched the paper in his hands, throwing it onto the growing, glowing fire.

"Which one was that?" she asked, glancing down at his book.

"A time I took the blame," he said simply, watching as the smoke rose above the flames.

"Keep going," she urged, grabbing fistfuls of paper and ripping them out. "What about this one?"

He brought her hand close enough to read the words. "A dark evening," he said, his eyes running over the painstaking script. "When my mother died."

Silently, she handed him the papers. It was his memory, his choice, to hold or to let go. He hesitated, his resentment at his mother's death and his father's disappearance pounding against his temples for one final, tense moment. In a rush of heat, he balled the pages up and threw them at the fire, releasing his anger and frustration all in one fell swoop.

He gasped heavily as he watched the papers burn, fresh tears pulsating behind his eyes. He hadn't cried since he was three years old. He'd hidden all of his emotions from that young age, never wanting to let others know when he was afraid or vulnerable, never wanting to be hurt as deeply as he had been then.

"Let it out," Kagome said softly, linking her hands on his left shoulder, letting her head fall against his right. "It's okay, Sess. You're going to be okay."

He squeezed his eyes shut, still resistant. Emotional agony flowed over him, overwhelming his defenses, beating him into submission. There was a reason he never wanted to face this shit – it had been hard enough the first time around.

Rebellious tears trickled from under his eyelids, cool against his cheeks. He held himself perfectly still in her half-embrace, determined not to cry out or sob uncontrollably. His eyes burned with the unshed grief, but he held fast.

Kagome began to stroke his hair lightly, rocking gently against him. "All the sadness, all the rage – throw it all away," she soothed. "No one will ever know the reasons for these tears, so let them out, Sesshoumaru."

He exhaled sharply, his eyes snapping open, tears flooding his cheeks as the internal dam broke. He let her hold him, comfort him, and his heart filled with unadorned love for her.

Time slipped by unmarked. They continued to pitch parts of their books into the fire, until there were only two measly pages left between his covers. He'd long since dried his tears, but this secret was the most difficult one to let go.

"We each have one left," he said tonelessly, letting his pieces lay in the sand in front of him.

She sighed, putting her torn cover next to his. "So we do," she murmured. "What's your biggest regret?"

He picked up the book. "This is the time we didn't speak for years," he remarked as he laid it in the fire bed.

She squeezed his hand, picking up what was left of her book. "Here is the secret no one will ever know," she said solemnly. "I never told anybody what happened that day."

He looked into her eyes, seeing the hope for his agreement reflected there. "Neither did I," he replied. "Not even Inuyasha."

She closed her eyes and smiled, flipping the board into the fire. "Thank you," she whispered.

He returned the smile, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "You're welcome."

She stood up, bringing a handful of sand above the fire. "One last thing," she declared, motioning for him to follow her lead. He picked himself up, brushing the sand from his clothes, nodding for her to continue.

She took a deep breath, releasing the sand into the fire. "Those who say the past is not dead can stop and smell the smoke," she declared harshly.

The fire roared, the flames reaching up towards her, cracking and hissing from the blast of sand. He caught her as she instinctively shifted back, holding her fast in his arms. She leaned against him, her hands settling over his at her waist, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"Thank you, Sesshoumaru," she whispered. "Thank you for going with me, for not rebuking me, for understanding my pain. You were the only one, you know." When he didn't immediately reply, she glanced up, shifting around to face him. "And thank you, for finally allowing me to thank you properly."

His heart twisted as he stared down at her, her expression soft and grateful. All he could think about—all he could _imagine_ – was kissing her. For as long as he'd known her, his pride and honor had kept him in check. _She was not his, she had never been his._ But in this moment, with the past behind them, with these new emotions brimming over –

He pressed his lips to hers, one hand moving up the length of her back, soothing away the surprised shiver that ran down her spine. He touched her cheek, her neck, sliding his fingers through her hair, finally doing what he'd wanted to do all those years ago.

"What was that for?" she breathed as he pulled away.

Now that he was touching her, he couldn't stop. "For everything you've done for me," he replied, resting his forehead against hers. "You're all I ever wanted."


End file.
